Opie's Lightening
by Victorian Lady Cat
Summary: Lost after the shocking loss of his wife, Donna, Opie leaves Charming to clear his head. His travels lead him into the unexpected meeting of a a strange witch like woman...who heals his heart and soul.


Chapter One

The pain in his heart was still there. Heavy, silent, cold and his alone. The only sound in the dark house was his breathing and the ticking of the clock on the mantle. Grief had shattered Opie's world just as surely as that bullet had shattered Donna's skull.

Opie reached toward the nightstand and looked at the gun as if for the first time. Turning it over in his hands, he felt the weight of the cold blue steel. He closed his deep blue eyes and with a shaking hand, placed the muzzle against his temple. The tick of the clock seemed to become louder and louder and for a few seconds he was almost tempted to pull the trigger to get some relief.

Finally, swallowing hard, he slid the gun back onto the night stand and sat down on the edge of the big bed he had shared with Donna. As he buried his face into the her pillows, he inhaled the remaining faintly floral fragrance that had been Donna's alone. The large bed held so many bitter sweet memories for Opie. So much love had been made here, laughter shared and tears shed. Their two babies had been conceived in this bed and later rocked there when taken to breast.

The hard fact was that this world was gone forever and the impact of reality surged in his chest and seemed to choke him. "Donna...Donna...Ah, Baby...Ahhh, this is such bullshit" he thought bitterly. As he lay in the dark, silent tears slipped down his cheeks and he finally allowed himself to sob. When his tears were spent, he sat up and quickly wiped his eyes with the back of a fist. "Time to get on with it..get the fuckers..get even". Getting up, Opie put the safety back on the gun and walked to the closet. Reaching behind boxes on the upper shelf , he slipped the gun back into the concealled wall compartment.

As he moved within the confined space, he realized that he stank of stale booze and body odor and was sickened by it. Shucking his cap, boots and clothes he walked toward the bathroom, he surrendered to the pumping force of the soothing hot water. As he later rubbed the steam off of the bathroom mirror, he realized the gaunt, hollow eyed, bearded man staring back was himself. In disbelief, he shook his head slowly.

He needed to sleep. The last thing he remembered before surrendering himself to the darkness was reaching toward the bedside lamp as he climbed into the welcoming haven of their bed

Chapter Two

Weeks passed as life had settled into a routine. After one too many beers, one afternoon Tig began to spew out a drunken confession to Opie's back. Being busy and as always, bored with Tig's usual shit, Opie ignored him.

"Tig, back the fuck up will you? I gotta get this shit done before the customer shows." said Opie.

"I didn't mean it..She wasn't supposed to...ohshit...I am showshorryOpie !" slurred a tearful Tig.

Opie's heart froze when he heard the word "Donna". The realization hit him like a rock. With the blood rushing to his head, as he turned slowly toward to Tig. "What did you do, Tig? WHATDIDYOUDOTIG? YOU MOTHER FUCKER !" screamed a redfaced Opie as he grabbed Tig.

Tig had killed Donna.

In an uncontrollable rage, Opie beat Tig until he was bleeding heavily and nearly unconscious. He had broken Tig's nose and cracked his head open against the grill of a truck. Blood flowed down Tig's face, into his eyes and mouth.

Gemma heard the yelling and ran out of the office, with Clay on her heals.

"Oh my God, Clay, what the fuck...? STOP this shit !" she yelled toward Clay.

"It's nothin' Babe, just nothin.. my boys being boys" he lied.

Not knowing the truth, Gemma was puzzled and continued to look on in horror. Her two favorites...why?

Breathing heavily, Opie delivered a final kick to Tig's ribs. Looking up with anguish, Opie's looked directly at Clay's amused smirk.

Stalking to Clay with a look of sheer hate, Opie punched a finger in Clay's chest "This isn't over you son of a bitch. I'm no fuckn' rat! I will deal with YOU later you ..F U C K I N G BASTARD!"

Shooting Clay a murderous look, Gemma angrily turning on her heal went back into the office, slamming the door with a bang.

Opie jumped into his truck and sped out of the protected enclosure of Teller/Morrow Enterprises.

Chapter Three

From Tig's confession, Opie had learned that the ATF cold eyed bitch, Agent June Stahl - was as guilty of pulling the trigger that killed Donna as Tig, Clay and the Club. He knew what he wanted to do, what he had to do.

Parked down the steet from Stahl's apartment, his plan of ambush paid off.

Catching her off guard, he suddenly yanked the car door from her hand as she was getting into her car. Shoving her into the drivers seat, he began by leveling his loaded pistol against her forehead. When he left she was hysterical, tearfully blubbering incoherent snot filled empty apologies.

The screamed words " ..the outlaw showed mercy" echoed in her sick mind.

Tossing the clip in her lap as he finished his threatening tirade, he walked away.

Chapter Four

Not giving a damn about were he was going, he kicked started his bike and just rode.

Hours later, exhausted, Opie was slowing down on a deserted stretch of highway. He glanced at his mirror and saw that it reflected a vehicle in the distance quickly gaining on him. As the speeding vehicle drew closer, Opie could identify the shape as vintage Datsun 240 Z. The vehicle swerved at the last minute as it came upon his rear wheel. Opie attempted to swerve to the right, knowing he had foolishly over corrected himself as the back of the bike slid sideways catching the soft, sandy shoulder of the road.

Both the bike and Opie tumbled down the steep decline off the highway.

Getting up after a painful landing against what was left of an old billboard he could see that the bike's fork was bent and the paint job he had just paid for ruined. Gas spewed out of the pierced tank of the wounded iron horse as if it were blood.

Seeing the serious damages, he yelled " .Ah..FUCK!"

Acting quickly, he ran up the embankment, tossing off his helmet and drawing his pistol. He was not quick enough.

The speeding car was long gone.

With the sickening realization that he had no cell phone as he searched his pockets caused his raging heart to almost explode.

He was screwed !

Dusting himself off, he resigned himself to the fact that he must begin walking the bike toward the small town he knew lay ahead.

As dusk crept up on Opie, he saw two lights of what appeared to be a tow truck coming toward him.

Putting his leathers back on, Opie took off the bandanna tied to his arm and wiped his face. He waited and watched as the old truck approached and slowed to a stop.

The truck had a flat bed behind it !

"Hey, Buddy, you lookin' like you needs you a ride" drawled the toothless, old man in the driver's seat.

The man turned the truck around and parked near Opie. Getting out of the truck he casually handed Opie a cold bottled water. The stench of the old man's stale sweat and oil stained dirty clothes hit Opie's nostrils causing him to back up a few feet.

"The Boss Lady says you had you a lil' mishap when she passed ya so's she sent me out to gits ya.

Mah name's Mistah Taylor." said the old timer.

Opie looked down at the filthy hand that was held out to him and shook his head in disbelief .

"Well Mister Taylor, I ain't your " buddy". Names Opie, Opie Winston".

The old man cackled and started to free chains on the flat bed for the bike. Loading the bike and securing it, the unlikely duo started down the road to town. After Opie quizzed Taylor on the "Boss Lady", Taylor realized his attempts to _talk at_ Opie fell on deaf ears. Lapsing into an uneasy silence they finally came to a small farming town.

"You sure are a big ol' hard ass, yessir, ya are!" Taylor said to no one in particular.

Opie scowled and shifted his weight in the passenger seat of the truck.

Chapter Five

The two way street was lined with a mix of shops and small businesses. The town consisted of an antique shop, a bar with a café, a unisex hair salon, a small motor court motel with an ancient pool and a post office.

"Jeez! This fuckin' place looks like something outta a '50s B flick" Opie thought to himself.

In actuality, the little community had survived quiet well in the tough economy of the day.

Passing the bar and café, Opie saw an old silver Jet Stream trailer parked in back. A sign with an upheld palm pointing to nowhere stood in front of the Jet Stream.

Pulling into the gas station that looked like it was straight out of the 1930's, Opie murmered "Holy Shit".

Releaved that the mechanic was still there, the two of them discussed the parts needed for the bike. As the mechanic hung up the phone, he informed Opie, no promise of parts delivery until late the next day. This town was like anyother with delays in the automotive parts industry.

Groaning at the news of the delay, in desparation, Opie walked over to the motel and payed for the shabby little room.

Settling in, he attempted to wash off the grime of the road. With wet, slicked back his hair, his concentraited on a plan to look around town for the "Boss Lady" and her 240 Z.

He had a score to settle with that crazy bitch.

The residents of the town were not at all upset by the sight of the tall biker walking around their town. Many bike clubs did runs nearby and often passed through the town. They were happily welcome, as they were known to pay very well for anything bought or broken.

After grabbing a burger and a cold beer, Opie had just walked out of the bar when he saw the Z pull up before the antique shop.

"OK, you fucking crazy bitch !" he swore under his breath.

Chapter Six

He casually felt behind him, as if to assure himself that his gun was still holstered under his leathers, if needed.

A woman clad in black leather ran up the steps of the shop. Long dark hair caught the soft breeze that carried the music of her jingling braclets to his ears. Quickly walking across the steet to the Z, he stood in front of it.

Behind him he heard the creak of a door opening.

In anticipation of trouble, instinctively, his right hand went up behind his back and rested on the butt of the pistol.

He heard a husky feminine voice speak lowly, "So, you still walking? ..affraid I might have hurt you."

Opie turned toward the voice and locked eyes with the driver he sought , the "Boss Lady".

Stepping toward the light of the shop, he saw that the long leather jacket concealed the fact that the buxom woman was about 5' 2" and put together like a brick shit house.

Proof of a few hard years were etched around her eyes.

Due to the over flow of ample breasts and rounded hips, the pretty buttons down the front of her clinging dress strained.

Long dark brown wavy hair threaded with hints of honied silver hung freely around her shoulders. The light reflected on high cheek bones framing her deep set, strange green eyes with tiny dancing flecks of amber.

She was beautiful.

Chapter Seven

As their eyes met, all of the anger and fury he harboured for this moment subsided and the electric current they felt, silenced them both.

Quickly regaining her composure, the woman commented, "I guess I owe you one, Mister. I'll pay for the damages to your bike. It was my damn speeding. Happens all the are ok then?"

Suddenly, remembering why he was there refueled Opie's temper causing him to stride quickly over to the lower step of the shop.

Standing on the steps allowed her to be almost almost eye to eye with Opie.

His face inches from hers, he growled at her through his white, clenched teeth and shook a finger in her face.

"Lady, you ALMOST killed me and you SURE AS SHIT KILLED MY BIKE ! ARE Y O U NUTZ ? You have NO idea how close you are to getting paid back yourself!"

Anger rising in her, she stepped back a few inches as if he had slapped her.

Glared at him, "Back the fuck off bucko! Told ya I would pay for the friggin' bike and I will!"

Horrified at her own outburst she struggled to regain her composure, she threw up her hands.

"Ah SHIT!"

Then, in her best patronizing voice she spoke, "Tsk! Tsk!..Oh my, where ARE my manners?"

Then sarcastically, " Look, don't bother to introduce yourself, Honey, I've heard all I want to about YOU today. What IS an Opie? What a strange name! Short for something is it? ..and your Mom couldn't think of anything better?"

Opie had to struggle to keep his hands off of her throat.

Realizing that she had over stepped, she offered, "So, would you like some herbal tea?"

She finally understood the comment people said when they were freaked out.."bout shit myself..".

"I don't drink tea." he spit.

"OK. Coffee then? Water? Whatever ? Come on, it's the least I can do. Hey, I baked some great cookies this morning. Everybody likes cookies..don't they? Ah, Come on in Mr. HardAss." she said as brazenly looked him up and down slowly.

"I figure you don't look like your're gonna kill me or anything colorful."

"Seriously, Mr. Opie, we DO need to talk dollars and cents. Now is a good time for me."

...then finally, she had the temerity to say, "Uhm, hey, for what it's worth, my name is Claire..."

Opie looked at her in shock and disbelief. What WAS she?

He couldn't decide if she was putting him on or genuinely a little off..He had never encountered any woman, other than Gemma, that had such brass balls.

Suddenly, they both burst out laughing. She backed into the open door of the shop and beckoned him in.

Taking a deep breath, Opie walked into her world.

Chapter Eight

Talking way into the night, exchanging the details of their tumultous lives, shyly, Claire admitted that she was ten years older than Opie.

He didn't care.

He was having trouble breathing each time he gazed into her absinthe colored eyes and like the aromatic liquor, it caused a nervous derangement in his mind and guts.

The only time he took his eyes from her gorgeous eyes and mouth were to assess her ass as she walked in and out of the room.

As the dawn's soft light warmed the room, Opie rose to leave. Stretching after sitting so long, Opie reached out for her hand and turned her around, drawing her to him. Cupping his hands around her face he turned it up to him. He bent to kiss her lightly. Reaching her arms up around his neck, she pressed into his body with her hardened nipples and kissed him back. For several minutes, their heated exchange almost made him think twice about leaving. Finally, he took her by the arms and gently pushed her away from him.

Smiling at her.."Good morning, Claire" and he slipped out the door.

Locking the door, Claire turned and leaned back on it, smiling to herself. She felt a promise of a happiness like she had never known in her strange 44 years of life.

Chapter Nine

Later that morning, the mechanic apprehensively told Opie that the parts were on back order and not to expect anything for a few days.

"Not a problem." he said with a smile.

The mechanic was puzzled and thought "this was surely not the message he gave me yesterday.. "wanted to get the fuck outta this town as soon as possible." Quote un quote. Shaking his head, he went back to his greasy job.

Not totally dismayed, Opie placed a call to his parents and checked on the kids.

He didn't bother to call Teller/Morrow. A finger poised above their number, he slammed it down.

"Fuck em!"

Spending part of the day hanging around the garage, Opie found that he actually was starting to like Mr. Taylor.

Old Taylor was a wealth of information and gossip. He even told Opie about the Gypsy Lady who lived in the Jet Stream.

Chapter Ten

Old Michella, was actually from Sicily and not a Gypsy. Word had it that after coming to California as a bride after WW II, she was suddenly left a widow. Broke, alone in a foreign land with no skills, Michella had often relied on the reading of palms and the Tarot to make ends meet. Her journey in life had led her here.

In light of his recent bad luck and having always been partial to spiritualism and the ways of the occult, Opie decided to seek Michella out.

It was time to get a reading.

The walkway was lined with rocks and colorful glass pieces. The scent of herbs and flowers mingled with the pungent smoke from her strange tiny brown cigar. Hearing the tinkle of glass, Opie glanced at the tree to his right and saw that it sported varied lengths of twine which were tied to colored bottles of many sizes. The ethereal sound soothed him.

The old woman sat outside her door sunning herself.

Seeing him as hesitated at the gate of her garden, she looked at Opie smiling and knowing why he was there.

Beaconing him toward her gaily...

"I kno you comah today. Dah signs - deh ahh point you know? Scusa de Engaleesh, eh? Come on, come on." she waived him toward her.

Entering the trailer, Opie was awed with the sight before him. The interior of the Jet Stream had been gutted and redecorated like a fantasy in a Sultans tent. Colorful oriental carpets adorned the floor, walls and ceiling. Old wooden doors, some with stained glass partitions, stood separating the room and providing privacy for her sleeping quarters and bathroom. In the cool dimmness, he realized that the windows and sky light were covered in a gauze like material dripping with fake pearls and glowing crystals.

The air held a faint odor of garlic and aroma of burnt coffee.

A rather large Rag Doll Siamese sat on top of a counter watching him through lazy blue eyes.

"Eh, hokay, you meet Mistah Sam, my keetee cat! He keepsah leetle mouses in ah lizardz away nice." said Michella, "Sit, sit, lemme lookah you hand!"

As Opie settled opposite her, she took his hands in her own and held them a few minutes. She tugged his rings and he took them off.

Snatching one, Micella held it above her closed eyes and forehead. Silently, after handing the ring back, she took his hand and turned it over.

Running her bent finger down each line, she finally looked up at him. Inhaling deeply and exhaling with the rush of her heavily accented words, she spoke,

"You ah broken in ah you needah fix you. No more sad! Enough! An ah watch out dah lightenin' bolt. It gonna hit you. You see..You see..You gonna heal dah broken when ah dah lightenin' hitta you. You gonna be hokay".

Shaking her head and letting out a cackle.."Ehhhhh, the strega, she ah finda you n' she gonna give you a new light. You old light ah die..Eh! No cry No more, you...she go quick..in ah dah street..no pain..she tell me to say it ah hokay ana you go now..you takah care ah dah kids good. Hey! You gotta dah keeds? You bringa see me ? Eh! Tings gonna go good now you see! Hmmmm Oh Si ! You watcha dah bad men wid de iron ..come? eh, cavallos..horses?" She went on about his past and future ending with the usual you will lead a long life.

Finally, she let go of his hand. Opie was speechless and a bit confused.

Michella cackled and said "$10 dollar Mistah Man, hokay?"

Reaching into his jeans, Opie pulled out two twenties and pressed them into her hand.

Turning, he stroked the cat, and calmly walked out into the sunshine smiling.

Chapter Eleven

In the cloak of darkness, Claire sat in wait with the knowledge that Opie would come to her. Silently, taking his hand with a smile, Claire led him to the back of the shop and up the staircase that led to her apartment.

Turning the door knob, Opie noticed that there was a tatoo on her inner forearm. Touching her arm, she turned to him with a smile.

He read the prettily tat'd word "Strega" under a pentagram entwined with a floral vine.

Thinking back to what Michella had told him.

"Strega" was Italian for Witch.

..and ...Bewitching she was.

Her comfortable rooms bathed in scented candle light, welcomed them.

Smiling, Opie reached for her again.

She went into his arms and slipped one hand under his leathers and one on his knit cap. She was deliberate in the slow manner in which she pushed them off. His hands went to her ample breasts and she trembled. She licked her lips in anticipation and pressed herself into him. Running his hands over body, kissing her slowly, Opie began to unbutton the front of her dress and allowed her to step out of it as it slid to the floor.

Looking up at him with a naughty smile, Claire reached for his Harley belt buckle and unzipped his jeans.

Grabbing her hands, he looked down into her eyes as if to ask permission of her to continue. Smiling, Claire slipped her hand into his jeans. No permission was required and no answers allowed. Neither had spoken since they met.

Stripping her of her bra and all but ripping her lacy panties off, Opie supported her body as he slid their naked bodies to the discretely place floor cushions hastily arranged before his arrival.

Kissing her deeply, he slipped his tongue into her mouth. Her immediate response was by sucking his tongue between saucy kisses.

His mind reeled with the promise of what was soon to come.

Slowly trailing a hand toward her crotch, he kneed her legs apart gently. He stopped kissing her and trailed his tongue down between her breasts, circling each rosy nipple. Gently cupping a breast, he began licking and nipping her stiff pink nipple. Letting his lips wander over the silky skin he came to her belly and stopped to tug her belly button ring with his teeth.

"His beard tickles !" she thought and Claire giggled.

With quickened hands he continued his exploration of her body down below her belly to the dark patch between her legs. His tongue found her clit as his fingers entered her. She arched her back and gasped. Finally, almost screaming with ecstacy, Claire begged him to stop. Letting his fingers slowly slip away from the darkness of the throbbing orafice, he went back to her sweet mouth again.

It was almost too hard to kiss her because his mouth would not let go of the smile it formed.

She slipped her tongue into his mouth and flicked it over his teeth, withdrawing sassily and nibbled his lower lip. She gently pushing him back on the cushions until he lay next to her, she bent over him letting her hair carress his chest and stomach as her lips slowly trailed south. Taking his swollen member into her hand, she lazily flicked her pointed tongue up and down the stiff shaft and circling the smooth round top with her pretty mouth. Sucking him into her mouth, she carressed and squeezed, sending him into a frenzy.

Unable to resist any longer, he grabbed her by the shoulders to stop.

Guiding her onto her back, he entered her with a force that caused her to gasp and having a deeply religous experience, calling out to her maker.

She met him equaly thrust for thrust. Kissing wildly, whispering sweet words into the night, they came together with an earth rocking orgasm for them both.

Slowly the pulse in her neck slowed down as did her breathing.

As Opie withdrew from her, he wanted to again gaze into those odd green eyes.

"Opie?"

"..Hmm?..Yes, Claire?"

"Uhmm, did Michella happen to mention a lightening bolt today?" she asked.

Surprised, he drew back from her.

"Uh, she did. Why? It was just gibberish shit."

She laughed and told him about the old Sicilian belief that when a man was smitten with a woman, his heart was hit by a lightening bolt. She was his and he was hers.

Looking at her, he nodded with understanding.

The lightening bolt had hit him.

It's fire in it had mended the break in his heart.

For as long as they wanted it to be - they had each other to turn to whenever they needed to. No rules.

Like the lines on his palm, their paths had crossed and their lives would never be the same.

He could go on now.


End file.
